


Excerpts from Creative Writing Class 2016-2017

by TheTartWitch



Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Short Stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 16:10:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7229425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTartWitch/pseuds/TheTartWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Excepts from any writing I do for my online writing class. Thought I'd share, since I haven't posted anything in a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Boy Studying Girl

The girl's hair is long and straight, drawing shut like a curtain so that he can only just barely catch sight of her pale neck. There's a freckle on the left side, hiding in the shadows under her ear . She's wearing a headband with a flower on one side, but he's too far away to see what type. Her head is bent forward over her book, utterly engrossed. She's visiting the university as a guest, judging from the nametag hastily slapped in that spot on her  shoulder blade  that she can't reach. The name on it is  Nora Jane , written in that sketchy, spidery scrawl only artists have, but he doesn’t think it's hers; she couldn’t have put it there herself, implying that she has friends of the practical joker variety. A woman calls out to her from across the room, blatantly violating the rules of the library, and he recognizes her as his English teacher. When the girl turns to smile at his teacher her eyes light up and he can see the profile of her nose and eyelashes in the glare of the sun through the far window. When she stands, ready to cross the populated floor of the library's seating area, her grey skirt sways around her knees, a darker counterpoint to the green sweater she's chosen. As she sweeps out the door behind her mother, he sees star earrings sparkle in her ears and sits for a moment, imagining where she's going next, before turning back to his book, ready for a next distraction from the English project he's neglecting.


	2. Morris and the Squirrel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short Story with Conflict, Action, and Tension

Morris  _wanted_ that acorn more than he'd ever wanted anything before. Seeing how 

easily the squirrel on the tree's branches had fetched the others, he worried the 

beast would snatch his acorn without him being able to grab it in time. He turned to 

scowl at the house, feeling a prickling sensation in his right eye, as though he might 

cry, before catching sight of his mother chasing a cat out of the yard. He watched, 

momentarily distracted, and thus, calmer, as the cat shot out of the house and 

disappeared from view behind the fence. After a moment, to Morris' astonishment, 

the furry rat had scaled the fence and was disappearing beneath Mr. Kurk's topiary 

bushes. Morris trotted over to the fence, intrigued, but snorted when he saw the 

ladder the cat had used to climb the fence. "Stupid kitty cheated," he grumped, 

turning back to the tree, but inspiration stopped him short. What if he hugged the 

trunk with his legs and tried to get up that way? 

No, he thought after careful consideration, it would never work. His mother was 

always saying how his behind was too heavy for her to carry anymore, so surely he 

wouldn’t be able to carry himself. Maybe if he threw stones at the squirrel until it 

left?


	3. Kienan and Saya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short Story with Character Development.

Across the street, old Ms. Mullens was watering her puffy hydrangeas and shoo-ing  

Mr. Kurk's slim tabby cat away from the den of rabbits under her roses. Next door,  

Kienan's mother was humming in the kitchen as she packed his little brother's  

 

lunch; he could hear it through the kitchen window, floating on the air like his life's  

 

theme song. His morning routine was almost complete; all that was left was to wake  

his neighbor's young daughter, Saya, in time for school. It was a chore her mother  

 

had entrusted to him after almost getting an alarm clock to the face, and one he  

 

faced only with great courage (courage that almost overshadowed his fear of all  

 

things  _Saya_ ). This morning he particularly felt the urge to get a shield; Saya'd been  

 

on a unicorn kick lately, meaning her room was covered in pointy bits of plastic and  

fluffjust waiting for her deadly aim to need them.  

 

Saya's mother's name was Gertrude, something Kienan's mother said was  

 

" _unfortunate, but there's nothing we can do now, you know?_ " (Kienan's dad just  

 

smiled as the woman walked by and waited until she was out of sight to elbow  

 

Kienan's mom in the ribs. _"Don't be rude, she's a wonderful person."_ )She was the  

one to answer the door, in her usual apron and bustling with the rush of the  

 

morning. She pushed him up the stairs after stuffing a breakfast muffin in his mouth  

(poppyseed today) and hustled off to find the family dog, Arthur. He was probably  

hidden under the cabinets in the kitchen or behind the toilet in the bathroom, where  

 

he stayed until Sleepy Saya made way for Awake Saya.


	4. Patrick Comes Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short Story Including Flash-back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point I've decided to keep all the short stories they have us write set in the same neighborhood and with the same characters. So far, I have   
> 1\. Kienan: teenage boy living with both parents and a younger brother.  
> 2\. Saya: Kienan's grade-school-aged neighbor, living with her single mother and their dog.  
> 3\. Morris: elementary-aged neighbor from somewhere in the neighborhood.  
> 4\. Patrick: Kienan's older brother who left home due to an argument with his father and is now living out of state.  
> If you'd like to include Her, He, and the English Teacher, that's fine, but I don't think they'll be coming back. If you'd like to request something in this 'verse, let me know in the comments. :)

Kienan sat morosely on the sill of his mother's bay window. His eyes were trained 

outside, but his gaze was lookingfouryears in the past, to the day his brother left 

them alone in this big house. Funny, how it had seemed smallerwith his brother's 

big personality taking up all the spare room.  

He'd been out running with his friends when his brother's blue pickup had turned 

the corner slowly, carefully, and he'd stopped when he'd seen his brother behind 

the 

wheel. The others had scowled at him, asked him why he'd quit running, and he'd 

said, "That was Patrick, in that truck. Where's he going? He knows Mom never lets 

him drive this late..."  

There was a pit in his stomach, overshadowing everything. Something must be 

wrong, if Patrick had left home so late in the evening. What if something bad had 

happened to Mom? Or Dad? He'd told his friends he had to go home, that he could 

hear his mother calling even though he couldn't really, and he'd booked it home. 

The door was unlocked, something that never happened, and he stumbled inside.  

"Mom? Dad?" He'd yelled, turning the corner of the front hall and freezing at the 

doorway to the living room. His mom sat very still on the couch, staring at her 

clenched fists in her lap and looking like she was trying not to cry. His dad was 

standing by the bay window, where Kienan sat now in the present,staringin the 

direction Kienan had come running from.  

Kienan's heart had felt very still in his chest, and his brain had, for once, gone 

quiet.  

"Where did Patrick go?" He'd said, his voice loud and soft at the same time, and 

for the first time he'd seen his father cry.  

Comingbackto himself,Kienanmused that the blue truck that had just passed by 

couldn’t be Patrick's. It had been four years, and the clunker was old; surely he'd 

scrapped it by now. It was useless to think about it, about why his dad had seen fit 

to drive Patrick away, when he knew Patrick wasn't ever coming back.  

The phone rang then, that annoying high-pitched yowl of a sound, and he sighed as 

he got up to answer it. Trudging across the room to the phone's table in the front 

hall, he picked it up and said dully, "Aber residence, who is it?" 

There was a short, fond laugh before a familiar voice said brightly, "Hey, Kienan! I 

think I'm lost, could you give me directions to the house?" 

It was Patrick. Kienan's throat closed; he couldn’t speak. 

"You're coming home?" He croaked, and out of the corner of his eye his mother 

opened the front door and walked inside. She didn’t seem to notice his expression 

but his voice caught her attention.  

"Kienan..?" She asked. 

"Actually, never mind," said Patrick quietly. "I think I found it." 

The dial tone sounded in Kienan's ear, and then it was all the buzzing of the 

doorbell.  


End file.
